


Are You Satisfied with Your Care?

by mckirkiing (insouciant)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 03:04:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2635631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insouciant/pseuds/mckirkiing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set some time in the future, a story about a grumpy doctor and a (sex)bot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are You Satisfied with Your Care?

Fingers trace the skin, slick with sweat, the tips set on slight vibration just enough to tickle, just enough to make Leonard twitch and snort--the result of him trying to hold off his laughter. The sigh that leaves his lips is full of content and pleasure that Jim can’t help but smile, lying beside him, at his _job_ well accomplished.

 

“Are you satisfied with your care?” He asks.

 

Leonard’s body goes visibly rigid and Jim cocks his head to the right at the confusion. His scan had said--was his scan mistaken?--that Leonard’s body was coming down from a full bliss. Jim had brought him to orgasm exactly three times. He could have brought one more based on his scan on Leonard’s body, but he had pushed Jim’s body away, his thighs still shaking from his third climax. _I don’t care what that dumb scan of yours says. I’m done, Jim. I can’t take it anymore._

 

“Way to break the mood, you dumbass sexbot.” Jim is 84 percent sure that Leonard had muttered those words to himself, but as Leonard himself had mentioned, Jim is a robot (or half, to be precise, but no one needs to know that), and his hearing is too good to be missing those grumpy words.

 

Maybe for the first time, Jim’s scan really had mistaken and Leonard isn’t satisfied and what Leonard needs is one more orgasm _like his scan had told him_ that Leonard’s body is capable of, but then his scan had made a mistake, so really, his robotic brain is going through some robotic dilemma on what to do, so he’s shutting his damn logical, robotic side down for once, and bringing out his _instincts_. ( _You’re a piece of shit metal. There’s no human in you. I should just sell you to a junkyard, get whatever money you’re worth before you go all rusty on me._ )

 

His lips taste Leonard’s freckles, his hands traveling lower and lower until one’s on his hips and the other one, grabbing his cock. _Maybe this will satisfy him_ , (because it satisfies him to satisfies others. It gives him a flicker of reason to exist.) He expects a moan, stuttering words, and reluctant, yet willing, spread of Leonard’s leg for that one last orgasm for the night. ( _Put your goddamn pretty face to use, will ya? You’re not gonna bring no money by just standing there like a dummy. Don’t expect me to love you like your so called parents did. You’re nothing but a piece of metal to me._ ) So when Leonard nearly jumps out of his bed, his knee definitely hitting the floor a little too hard for his liking, ankles tangled in sheets and trapping him like some dumb animal caught in a trap, Jim feels absolutely lost, his body unmoving for three seconds too long before his focus is back on his vision that’s flashing red, notifying him of a _minor injury_ on Leonard.

 

He shakes his head as if that’s going to ever help him get rid of his _memories_. He really needs Scotty’s help on getting rid of these flashbacks, somehow delete them from his hard drive. He's down on his knees next to Leonard, his hands untangling the sheets away from his legs. There’s already little bruises forming on Leonard’s knee and he is about to switch his mode to _basic caretaker_ when Leonard places his firm hand on Jim’s naked chest.

 

“Damn it, Jim, did you forget already? I’m a doctor. I can take care of this myself.” Leonard sounds like his usual self, but Jim feels like he somehow got caught in the act, as Leonard’s eyes study him from head to toe. Leonard is no robot, that’s for sure, not even 0.01 percent, but there are times Jim feels exposed when those deep, thoughtful eyes land on him.

 

Jim helps Leonard back to bed and he’s testing his knee to make sure everything’s under control. “Yeah, this is a no biggie. I’ll just end up being sore for the next couple days.” He tells Jim, who’s sitting rather awkwardly beside him. His eyes are searching and Jim signals trouble. “That’s a relief. I should get going then. I’ll see you next week as usual.” He’s grabbing for his clothes thrown haphazardly over Leonard’s bedroom, hurrying to leave before he accidentally reveals more than the both of them can handle.

 

“I haven’t said the words yet, Jim.” The words come out slow and Jim is right about to reach for the doorknob when he hears them. “Huh?”

 

“I haven’t said _‘I am satisfied with my care’_ yet.” Jim has trained himself all his life to rid his human side within him and it’s days like this one that he’s too glad to have done so, able to hide his tension spread all over his body at Leonard’s words. “You’ve kindly reminded me one too many times that as a robot whose job is to sexually please, you would not be dismissed until your client tells you those exact words. Or was I hearing ‘em wrong?”

 

Jim thinks that there’s absolutely no accusation in Leonard’s tone and goodness, isn’t that a big relief? Because Leonard’s a good person, _a great person_. (And sometimes, that has become _the_ problem, hasn’t it? It makes Jim’s half heart itch. It makes something deep, deep within Jim’s heart claw itself out. It makes him want to spill the truth, of who he is, or _was_ , and what he really is. It makes Jim’s heart ache.)

 

The logical side of him is telling him to leave and never come back, because this is too much of a risk, but _no_ , the human side of him, the love craving, touch thirsty human side of him, argues weakly. _I want to stay with him. I want to see him next week, and the week after, and the week after, after. I want to be convinced that he won’t hurt me, break me, ruin me, leave me, threaten me to sell me at a junkyard, piece by piece at a time. I’m already 78.3 percent convinced of this. I just need a little bit more push, a little more love and care from him to be completely convinced. I can’t let those chances slip._

 

“Jim, are you okay?” He feels careful fingers tightening on his elbow. He feels the concern in his voice. _Look at him. He’s the one I want, I’m telling you._ (79.1 percent.) And Jim is having one of those useless flashbacks again, not the bad kind, but the good kind.

 

Of their first night, Leonard with his face and body so red, it oddly reminded him of a tomato field. He had told him he hadn’t done anything like this in a while. He had gasped and moaned at Jim’s every little touch and kisses.

 

Of their third night, with Leonard’s hands on his, nothing sexual, because they haven’t even gotten near his bed yet. Warming Jim's hands with his, he had lectured him on not dressing warm enough for the cold winter weather. _I’m a robot_ , Jim had replied, but all Leonard did was scoff at him. _Robot makes you a robot, and that’s it. Doesn’t make you invincible or inhuman, kid._ Oh, how that had increased his heartbeats to 154 percent.

 

Of their seventh night, when Leonard had skipped dinner for Jim, then offered to cook for him after sex. When Jim had laughed, he had grunted, _Well, excuse my ignorance at robot lifestyles. I just didn’t want you sitting hungry while I ate was all._

 

Of their eleventh night (that most likely only Jim has a recollection of), when Leonard was too drunk and gone to have sex with him. When he had cried on Jim’s shoulders, because he had lost his patient. When he looked into JIm’s eyes and began to tell him how beautiful Jim was, _really really beautiful. You make me think of a whole new universe out there. I’ve always been curious, but I’m too damn chicken to go out there. You see, I suffer from aviophobia and I know this sounds silly as hell--don't’ you dare laugh, Jim--but it’s like God took some pity on me and brought me to you with a whole new beautiful universe compressed inside your two dumb eyeballs._

 

Jim turns to face Leonard. Hazel eyes. Green-brown that reminds him of a deep, strong forest, away from this world filled with artificiality. He’s standing in the middle of a thick forest, yet he doesn’t feel out of place. Despite what he is, he feels right at home, embraced by trees who breathe life after life into him.

 

 _Warning. Danger. Alert. Abort._ Everything is in red, bold, capitalized letters, telling him to run away. Jim swallows, because that's what people do when they’re nervous and he’s human, right? ( _Right, mom? You said I was the first. You told me never to forget what I am, who I am, and what I will mean to people in the future. The weight is getting too heavy on me. They’re too heavy on me and I bent and broke a long time ago when you and dad left. I don’t want to do this anymore. I need some guidance, please._ )

 

“I don’t-” ( _I don’t want you to say those words to me. Actually, I do, because nothing gives me more pleasure than pleasuring you, satisfying you, but I don’t want to leave when you say those words. I want to stay here. Can I stay here, maybe? Please? You told me you love coffee and apple cider, so maybe you can make me one of them and we can talk about everything over cups and cups of them. Please?_ )

 

“You’re right. I need you to say them to go to my charging station. My program must have glitched. Are you satisfied with your care?” Jim could’ve sworn he saw a flash, and then another, of disappointment (and oh no, was that hurt?) in Leonard’s eyes. He watches as Leonard turns his eyes to the floor away from Jim’s.

 

“Of course. I am satisfied with my care.” His voice is low and Jim wants to hold his hands and kiss his cheeks and make him smile, but he _can’t_.

 

=

 

“God damn it, Leonard Mccoy!” He’s banging his head on the wall over and over again. It hurts, of course. It damn well hurts and that’s precisely why he’s self abusing like there’s no tomorrow. What has he gotten himself into? He’s lived long enough to see the world change and change even more, but nothing has gotten him prepared for this. Falling for a goddamn robot for Christ’s sake! Leonard buries his face on his palms. “Oh, God, help me.”

 

Honestly though, he doesn’t know why he’s having such trouble with wrapping his head around this rising fluttering feeling inside his guts. ( _God damn it, I did not sign up for this!_ ). This is the 23rd century for crying out loud. Humans and aliens and robots have long begun to mingle with another. He has never guessed that it’ll be happening to him though. ( _Oh, God, he’s a sexbot!_ )

 

It’s been three weeks; three long weeks since he’s seen Jim. He had missed two of their _appointments_ together, the third one coming up in a few hours. He should be angry, really, for Jim missing all these appointments without prior notice, but he’s not. He’s just worried sick. He had lost count of the times he had tried to contact him before his pride had stopped him from doing so, because after all, it’s not like this emotion-lacking robot is going to appreciate him worrying over him. ( _But that’s not true. You know it’s not true. You’ve seen his doubts, his vulnerability in his eyes. You’ve seen the way he'd touched you. You keep telling yourself that all that is what he’s programmed to do. Keep telling yourself that until he leaves for good and you’re left with nothing but your bitter and regretful heart. You barely survived the last heartbreak. Let’s see how you’ll cope with this one._ )

 

After minutes of staring at his tablet screen, he’s messing his hair in frustration, cursing here and there. Here’s to another night alone without Jim, he thinks as he grabs a bottle of bourbon and drinks from the bottle, because really, he can care less at the moment.

 

Five big swigs from the bottle and an hour later, Leonard’s thinking he’s still not drunk enough and he’s still not mended properly enough from his last heartbreak to go through another one. It’s been years, of course, but sometimes, there are just some things that time cannot help him forgive and forget. He keeps thinking, _Did I do something wrong? Did I do something wrong again to drive the person I love away?_ And damn it, the thought of it just hurts too much. He keeps telling himself he’s making a big deal out of nothing, because it’s not like he had a legit relationship to begin with. Jim is one of the countless service (sex)bots out there and happen to tumble into Leonard’s sad, lonely life.

 

But maybe- Just maybe, if Leonard was more honest with his feelings, Jim wouldn’t have left this easy. He wouldn’t have left without leaving him any note. _You’re over thinking again, Leonard. You were just one of the many clients he had to make a living off of as a bot._ But he could have sworn there was something about Jim, something so different, so broken ( _and so human_ ) about him. He’s met and worked with too many robots to simply shrug it off. He could have sworn-

 

Leonard almost misses the sound of his door hissing open. He nearly drops his bourbon. He nearly falls from the chair. He nearly has a heart attack when he sees Jim standing in front of him, drenched in rain, bruised and cut, reeking of cheap perfume and alcohol.

 

“Good God, kid, since when do sexbots go bar hopping, looking for a fight?” Leonard asks, hiding his surprise, hiding his longing, hiding the bubbly feeling that’s boiling inside him that’s shouting, _you’re in love, Leonard, you’re in love!_ He approaches Jim with haste, his medical kit already in hand, because he’s been trained to treat humans, most of the alien species, and robots, and damn if he’s gonna let Jim go untreated.

 

Jim is pliant under his hands as Leonard sits him down on his sofa, swiping his thumb on the blood that’s trickling down the edge of his brow. He sees too many uncertain emotions whirling around Jim’s eyes to be called robot, but he’s guessing there’s always an exception. First and foremost, do the fixin’, then do the askin’.

 

And of course, it doesn’t always work that way. Of course, it doesn’t, when his scanner is bleeping between two completely different species, unable to make a conclusion whether the pretty eyed creation in front of him is human or a robot. Leonard’s eyes are wide as he glances back and forth from the scanner to the man sitting in front of him when Jim is gently ( _desperately_ ) wrapping his fingers around Leonard’s wrist.

 

“Can I have a cup of warm apple cider? Your favorite kind?” He rasps out and Leonard remembers that one night when Jim had laughed at him for asking if he wants anything for dinner, so really, he should be eyeing him with suspicion with his arms crossed, except he can’t and he’s nodding slowly like he can’t decide whether or not he’s dreaming, turning around to put the kettle on for Jim.

 

He needs to go patch the kid up except he’s just standing in front of the boiling kettle, biting his lips. _Did he do something wrong? Maybe he’s in a lot of trouble and he didn’t know where else to hide and came to me. Oh god, is someone trying to kill him? Is someone trying to-_

 

“Leonard, the water’s boiling.” The voice behind him tells him, wrapping his strong, steady arms around Leonard. There are at least one hundred (and then a few more) questions floating inside his head, but damn it, all he wants to do is put his hands on Jim’s and lean into his touch, and that’s exactly what he does. “I’ve missed you, kid,” he says them in such a small voice, but he knows Jim had caught them.

 

=

 

“I’ve missed you, too, Bones,” Jim tells him rocking his hips into Leonard and honestly, he’s not even sure if Leonard had heard them, his arms wrapped tight around Jim’s neck and his legs desperately wrapped around Jim’s waist, trying to form words, but failing miserably. He tries to keep his eyes open only to have them shut tight every few seconds as Jim pushes right into his prostate that makes his toes curl.

 

=

 

“ _Bones?_ ” Leonard asks with his brow raised in question. From at least a hundred (and then a few more) questions, he had in mind of course, he’s asking about this newly acquired name of his. “Because I’m a doctor? Or because of these regretful tattoos I have on my back?”

 

“Both. And more. Much more.” Leonard shakes his head at Jim’s ambiguous answer, but doesn’t push on. There are too many questions inside his head at the moment, but he’s not planning on wasting any time on them tonight, because first and foremost, do the fixin’ (of hearts) then the askin’.

 

(end)

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> of course i had to turn that beautiful line from the beautiful animation into smtg mckirk and im soRRY I CANT HALP MYSELF apologies in advance??? i originally had smtg smutty and short in mind and of course me being me had turned it into smtg more and weird and sappy and *face palm* there is space to be expanded but idk if im ready to oh god


End file.
